Sateenkaarisuudeima covers a wide gamut of psychedelic psychogeography. For all the diverse comments made, however, Sami Sanpakklia appears as no mere dilettante. Most every note here is believable, has purpose, and abides by an ineluctable process of metamorphosis. Little of any undifferentiated space can be found. Even when pieces sink into a hazy, softer focus, with subtly shifting depths of field, everything is taut, organized, and bound together by a skein of shared emotional intimacy.
Composed largely during his travels, the pieces are similarly concerned with maps, both drawing on and inhabiting fictitious and occasionally fantastic landscapes. Compositions are powerfully propulsive, relying on the harmonic function of the instruments while simultaneously stitching together strong melodic lines and occasionally strafing them to hot cascades of notes. “Harmonia” features crisp, agile, insistent tattoos of saxophone, which envelop lulling, elemental rhythms and insinuate themselves into every interstice. Rather than conventional decoration, these movements rattle and stab menacingly, remaining at equilibrium owing to a perpetual tension and resolution of conflict. A similar open system and internal regulation appears in markedly more ambient affairs: “Sateenkaarisuudelma III”, for one, impeccably threads laminal drones with shimmering repetitions of piano and muted rhythmic loops. It’s all held in a delicate balance, which gives this dense, complex music real communicative force.
The second full-length from Paavoharju doesn’t fair nearly as well. Oftentimes the music relies on the quirks and personal charms of the players noticeably more than the clarity of their musical conception. From the onset the group betrays a gift for powerful melodic statements and resonant orchestration. Pieces like “Kevatrumpu” find a driving force and delightful melodic twist, yet it’s often chewed over by muffled resonations, warped electronic noodling, and kaleidoscope beams of sonic color. None of it ever comes to forge a catacomb through which one can tunnel; neither do they add or subtract a dimension from the proceedings. Distraction is all, and despite their best efforts to ignite, there is little of anything here that is strong enough to keep their creative fuse from prematurely fizzling out.
Max Schaefer
